


The Alpha and the Sniper

by DrNeverland



Series: You Never Hear the One That Gets You [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Dirty Talk, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Making Out, Nightmares, Oil, Outdoor Sex, Past Character Death, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Humor, Size Difference, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, cooking oil lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 06:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15136892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrNeverland/pseuds/DrNeverland
Summary: Mason thanked MacCready with a domineering kiss for saving his life; more kisses are exchanged, and things begin to escalate. The two are drawn to each other for no apparent reason, other than the crooked histories behind them.side fic to You Never Hear The One That Gets You series. It's barely needed to be read unless you want to know more about why Mason stays in Sanctuary.





	The Alpha and the Sniper

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of "You Never Hear The One That Gets You," but all you really need to know from that is my Sole Survivor talked Mason into working with her and the Minutemen, rather than the wholesale slaughter of the Open Season quest. After that, she has a baby with Gage, a little girl named Freya.
> 
> MacCready references a point in one of the chapters: Mason throws a fit because of a lost loved one, and the citizens of Sanctuary react accordingly to a Raider breaking shit.

1.

 

Standing outside the Pack’s house, MacCready stared at the garish decor used to make the place feel like home to the wayward Raiders who stayed in Sanctuary. Hours had passed since Mason’s little outburst, and the sounds inside had resumed, with other Pack members returning, some leaving or swapping out and crashing in the bunks.

Mason had not been seen since the late afternoon. Night had fallen, and MacCready lingered outside the “nest,” wondering. No Pack member had said anything to him, either acknowledging him with a nod of their head or ignoring him completely until he knocked on their door.

Outcast from their surroundings, MacCready stepped inside the Pack’s den, where the one member who was still awake stretched out on a Brahmin skin couch, perusing a Grognak comic. Liquor bottles were everywhere, and the scent of chems lingered just under the stench of stale beer.

“Mason still around?” MacCready asked.

The lone Pack member looked up from her comic book and shrugged. “In his den, I s’pose. Tweez said somethin’ about him being pissed off and broke the table, but it’s lookin’ okay,” she said, gesturing at the coffee table, now held together with a dozen bands of duct tape.

Frowning, Mac turned and headed down the short hallway to the bunks. The Pack members in one room were asleep on bunk beds, passed out in random directions. One excess person curled up on the floor with a couple of their many dogs.

Turning away from the group room, MacCready raised his hand to part the curtain that served as Mason’s door. From the living room, MacCready heard “I wouldn’t” be called to him, but he let the advice pass.

“Mason? You awake?”

Silence.

Dread pooled in MacCready’s stomach. Mason’s breakdown had him concerned. He’d seen Gunners crack and cordon themselves off in a private bunk, only to be found the next day hanging from a fixture by their belts. While MacCready didn’t want to believe Mason would commit suicide, the terrifying thought still flitted through his mind, sharply drawn in his imagination with enough detail to encourage him to push the curtain aside.

“You got a hell of a rudeness problem,” Mason snarled. He sat at the end of his bed, shirtless, illuminated by the glow of his cigar and the moonlight bleeding in from the cracked slats of the exterior. “No answer means ‘stay out.’”

Exhaling in relief, MacCready pushed his way in, sliding the curtain closed behind him.

“You __really__  have a problem,” Mason said again, drawing in smoke, making the orange glow of his cigar flare for a moment.

“Look, I just-”

“Get out.”

“I just wanted to talk about today-”

“I said __leave.__ ” Mason slid off the bed and to his feet, pushing up into MacCready’s space.

“You don’t have to be alone you know.” MacCready didn’t regret saying it, even if he had to speak quickly enough before Mason physically threw him out of his room.

Mason bit on the end of his cigar and grabbed MacCready by the shoulders, shoving him to sit on his bed. Taking up his throne in the corner, Mason leaned back and pulled the cigar from his lips and tipped ash straight onto the floor.

“Since you’re obviously determined to annoy the fuck out of me, might as well tell me your bullshit so you can leave and I can get some sleep,” Mason said, gesturing with his cigar.

Taking a deep breath, MacCready started his story, just the small bits, not the details on being a better person or the tribulations of getting away from the Gunners. Just what he thought Mason would be able to relate to: losing his wife, barely escaping with his son, trying to survive.

“...Duncan’s only six now, but he’ll ask about his mom someday. I hope I’m around to tell him about her.”

Mason leaned back in his seat, smoking the cigar down to a nub and stubbing it out against the aluminum wall. “Helluva sob story. Were you hoping I’d impart some bullshit about my past?”

“Not hard to guess. You were looking at Freya like you were missing someone-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Look…” MacCready got to his feet, hands up and palms out, approaching Mason slowly. “We’re not friends, I know that, but we could be.”

Mason looked up from where he sat, studying MacCready’s face. That close, with his eyes adjusted, MacCready could see the paint was mostly gone from his face now, except what had been smudged into his hair.

“Why would I want to be friends with a runt like you?” Mason asked.

MacCready shrugged. “Because being bigger than me will make you look huge?”

Mason snorted and looked away, twisting his face to hide a smile. It might have been a smug grin, but at least he wasn’t yelling. MacCready counted that as a win.

“Fine, whatever, runt. Just don’t bitch to me when the wild dog bites.”

Chuckling, MacCready shook his head. “Oh, I dunno. I think I can handle a few bites. But…” Leaning down, MacCready took Mason’s jaw in his hand and made him look him in the eyes. “Can you?” On that note, he pressed a firm, swift kiss on Mason’s mouth and disappeared in the moment of Mason’s shock.

 

2.

 

Days later, Mason returned from another caravan run. He looked like hell, his tank torn and bloody, with scrapes over his knuckles and Carla slung over his shoulder, her leg in a makeshift splint. Holding himself with his sledge as a cane, Mason passed Carla over to Sanctuary’s clinic volunteers.

“Carried me for the last few miles,” Carla murmured, a hand trailing after Mason as he let her go onto the stretcher Val and Jun helped lay her on. Mason gave Carla a nod and took a step back, giving the volunteers space.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” Mason snapped, as another volunteer tried to inspect his injuries. He pushed them off and headed for the Pack house, leaving everyone else to fuss over Carla.

“She gonna be okay?” MacCready asked, watching the volunteers carry Carla into the Sanctuary clinic.

Val shrugged and clapped a hand on MacCready’s shoulder. “Seems like she will. If it’s just a busted leg, we can patch her up, let her stay with us for a bit. We’ve got plenty of supplies.”

MacCready turned and looked toward the Pack house. “Wonder what happened out there…”

He heard Val chuckle as she gave him a small shove from behind. “Why don’t you go ask him? Take a med kit, in case he’s just licking his wounds.”

“I wasn’t gonna-”

“Mac, please.”

Rubbing his face, MacCready went into the clinic to grab a small portable kit and headed over to the Pack house. Not bothering to knock, he stepped inside, expecting Mason to be on one of the couches, holding court and going on about how he totally kicked __yet another__  Deathclaw’s ass. Instead, there was only one other Pack member - that skinny guy, Tweez - sitting over by the dinner table.

“Where’d Mason go?” MacCready asked, barely catching the words before they were out of his mouth.

“Wash up,” Tweez said, over a mouthful of noodles.

As Tweez replied, Mason appeared in the hallway, eyes fixing on the standout in his house. He looked toward the medkit in MacCready’s hands and shook his head.

“You again.” Mason sighed and turned around, going into his room.

MacCready pulled his cap off and scratched at his head. What was he even doing there? Val had sent him there, but he could have said ‘no,’ and let her wheedle information out of Mason instead.

Yet, there he was by Mason’s curtain, pushing the heavy cloth aside without knocking. On the other side, Mason had his back to the door, his shirt off. In the overhead light, MacCready could see the raw power carved into every muscle of Mason’s back - as well as three gory lines cutting through his skin.

“Shit,” MacCready said. “You’re hurt.”

Mason looked over his shoulder. “Yao Guai. Glowing, pissed off. Not alone. Trashcan spent her last Stim on me to make sure I could take’m down, ‘cause the cub nearly ripped her leg off. The one that did this-” he thumbed at the marks on his back; they were still red with dry blood. “Nearly took me out in one swing.”

MacCready’s lips parted with a gasp. “They caught you off guard,” he guessed, and Mason nodded.

“Yeah. Just me and Carla made it. The rest of ‘em are… that road outside Concord-”

“Mason, lay down.”

Turning around, Mason took a step forward and into MacCready’s space. Not to be intimidated, MacCready took his cap off so his vision wasn’t obscured and stared right back at Mason.

Moments passed, quiet enough that MacCready could hear Tweez pouring himself a drink from the common room and sit on the couch.

“Awright then,” Mason said, turning away and stretching out on his stomach on his bed. He tucked his pillow under his head and laid still.

Surprised that Mason did as asked, MacCready took a moment to gather his thoughts and pulled Mason’s throne up, the medkit left on his bedside table. Cleaning his hands, then Mason’s wounds, he started to dress the deep cuts on Mason’s back as the Alpha grunted and hissed at the sting of medication.

“Where’d you learn to do this, little Rabbit?”

“Rabbit?”

Mason snorted. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“ _ _Robert.__  My name is Robert.”

“I like Rabbit more.”

MacCready rolled his eyes and clipped a bit of medical adhesive. “Gunners I used to run with. You’re not the only one who thought I was a no-good runt.”

“Never said you were no-good, just a runt,” Mason chuckled.

“Whatever. They made me learn how to field dress injuries. Can’t say I’m ungrateful, though. It’s come in handy more times than I’d care to admit.”

“Well, you got deft hands, little Rabbit.” Mason groaned and MacCready froze. The noise out of Mason did not match the pained ones just before it. Mason shifted slightly on his bed, pushing his hips down before settling again.

“Um… thanks…” MacCready felt the burn across his cheeks and into his ears. He sat back a little and adjusted his own jeans before returning to his work.

It took a little over a half hour and a heavy dose of Med-X, but when he was done, MacCready sat back and admired his handiwork. Mason’s back was all patched up, and the skin around the wounds no longer red and inflamed.

“Looks like you’ll make it. Should I get a cone, make sure you don’t lick your wounds?” MacCready asked. After a moment of non-response, MacCready leaned down, listening intently.

Mason breathed heavy and even, his eyes closed. MacCready checked his pulse to make sure he would live through the night - his heart rate was steady - then gathered his things to leave. Just as he turned away from Mason’s bed, MacCready felt a hand snatch his wrist.

“Goin’ so soon?” Mason asked, looking up from his pillow.

“Yeah, you’re all patched up.”

“Mm, thanks.” Mason tugged MacCready back a few inches more and pulled his hand close to his face. Pressing a kiss on MacCready’s knuckles, Mason then released MacCready, patting the back of his hand as he tucked his face away.

Leaving the room, MacCready made sure to shut off the light.

 

3.

 

__“RJ! Duncan! Run!”_ _

MacCready nearly fell out of his bed. Another bad night, plagued with nightmares about Lucy. Every bad dream was a new version; tonight, as he fled the tunnels with baby Duncan in his arms, MacCready felt like his legs were made of lead. Every step felt slow to the point of him being dragged backwards, and he could almost feel the teeth and clawing hands tearing Duncan away from him when he had awoken, heart hammering in his chest.

Moving quietly so as to not disturb his very-much-alive son, MacCready pulled on his boots and shirt, not bothering to button it as he headed outside for some air.

The moon hung overhead at a sliver, the new phase starting soon, but still leaving billions of stars plenty of space to shine otherwise. Sometimes, the open sky made him nervous, when Vertibirds could approach at any time. The night was still, however, and quiet. Perimeter turrets chugged in the distance, scanning back and forth for hostiles, and as MacCready wandered away from the bunkhouse, he could hear a few of the Brahmin shuffling in their barn.

The silence of Sanctuary felt unsettling at times. Too much quiet made haunting thoughts that much louder; MacCready picked up his pace as if to outrun them. Without focusing, he ran and sat down at the edge of the river, away from the wall, where grass flourished in thick patches.

Settling under the bare-bone trees, MacCready drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He tucked his chin and balled himself up, feeling the nightmare come flooding back to his mind. Not bothering to stifle himself, MacCready inhaled deeply and let the tears come. Big, gasping sobs shook his body and made him tremble. He covered his head and cried, feeling sick with guilt. He wanted to blame himself, turn back the clock and warn Lucy to stay away from him, or to keep out of the tunnels. Instead, he was alive and in Sanctuary, but Duncan was without his mother.

Just as another wave began to hit him, MacCready felt a hand on his back. The sudden contact made him jump away, unballing his body and prepare to run.

“Whoa, rabbit, take it easy.” Mason’s face was hard to see, but the voice was unmistakable.

“The hell do you want?” MacCready snarled, scrubbing at his face. His cheeks burned in embarrassment at being caught. “I don’t need you giving me shit.”

“You __must__ be hurtin’, using all that foul language. What would your pup think?”

“Enough! Just… leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

Mason started to get up from where he was crouched, when a dreadful feeling made MacCready reach out and stop him.

“Wait. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Stay or go?”

“Stay.”

Sitting down again with a huff, Mason leaned against the tree MacCready had taken shelter under. MacCready watched him for a moment before sliding over next to him, pressing his shoulder into Mason’s. He wiped at his eyes again and watched the river, glad that Mason wasn’t trying to goad or mock him for crying.

When Mason __did__  speak, such time had passed that MacCready was almost dozing off, and he jumped again.

“Had a kid once, myself. Born real early. Didn’t make it. Mate blamed me, took off,” Mason said, his words clipped. “Wanted to track her down, but I’d just gotten in with these two other gangs to take over this amusement park…”

MacCready looked over at Mason’s profile. He’d seen him without his makeup a couple times now; under the paint, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, and had muscles cut from rock. For all the partying the Pack did, he could be in worse shape.

“Must’ve been hard. You’re… um…”

Mason looked at MacCready like he’d just remembered he was even there, waiting for MacCready to finish his thought.

“Well… I mean, you’re, um… fit?”

Mason stared for another few moments before he started laughing, rough and hoarse. Distantly, a radstag doe took off at the sudden noise.

“You could just say ‘thanks.’” MacCready frowned, and drew his legs up again. “I just meant you could try again.”

Mason’s heavy arm clapped over his shoulders. “I needed that, Rabbit.”

“Stop calling me that. My name’s RJ, or you can call me ‘Mac,’ too.”

Chuckling, Mason’s arm slid down to MacCready’s waist and tightened; in an instant, MacCready found himself seated in Mason’s lap, back to his chest, and feeling very, very small.

“Hey, don’t manhandle me!” MacCready said, struggling to break from Mason’s arms, which slipped around his waist and held him tight.

Mason’s chin hooked over his shoulder as MacCready squirmed. He chuckled again, and MacCready gave up, slumping against Mason’s chest.

“Skittish, aren’t you?” Mason murmured, right into MacCready’s ear. He rumbled low in his chest, a noise not unlike a purr, and MacCready tensed with a held breath.

“Take it easy, little rabbit,” continued Mason. The hold on MacCready’s waist loosened, one hand slipping under MacCready’s open shirt and over his stomach.

The gentle touch was unexpected and made MacCready gasp. He covered his mouth and tried to pretend it was a cough, but the smug chortle behind his head signaled that Mason hadn’t bought it.

“I like to play with my prey,” Mason murmured, the words said into the back of MacCready’s neck as his hand moved up a little higher, smoothing over his pectoral.

Feeling his spine stiffen, MacCready put his hands on Mason’s wrists, pushing his arms apart. He found little resistance, and was able to get turned around so he straddled Mason’s outstretched legs.

“If I’m prey, isn’t there more thrill in the chase?” MacCready asked. He put his hands on Mason’s shoulders, ready to push off if Mason’s answer was unsatisfactory.

A slow smile spread over Mason’s face. “I like a good hunt.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, MacCready nodded. “Good,” he said, and leaned in. He kissed Mason deeply, putting his fingers into his hair and tugging enough to make Mason groan. Mason replied with a soft bite to MacCready’s bottom lip. MacCready tilted his head and parted to let Mason’s tongue in, sucking on it just a little to tease him. Mason started to sneak his fingers into the waistband of MacCready’s pants, and that was when MacCready had to stop.

Pulling back, MacCready pressed his forehead to Mason’s and caught his breath. He still felt overwhelmed and confused, and while his body screamed for more contact, his heart ached from his earlier emotional outpouring. Mason sharing his story had given him some grounding, some understanding, but it was still too soon.

“Thanks,” MacCready breathed, opening his eyes to look at Mason. “But not yet.”

Mason frowned, studying MacCready’s face. After consideration, Mason nodded once.

“Go to wash up, little rabbit. Don’t want to get caught with your face all red.”

Smirking, MacCready leaned in to steal another light kiss before he got up. Wrapping his shirt tighter around himself, MacCready headed off first, hitting up the bathhouse to give himself a quick scrub to rid his face of the smudges of paint Mason had left behind.

 

4.

 

“Val said I should ask you about Mutfruits?” Mason shouted, above the hail of gunfire around them.

MacCready took down a Mr. Gutsy floating their way, his face burning red. “Why on earth would she tell you that?!” he snapped back, reloading his rifle.

Mason cackled and peered over the side of the truck they hunkered behind.

“Because she said you need to get laid!”

“I-wha-MASON!” MacCready got to his feet as Mason vaulted over the truck.

Running up to the Assaultron scanning for signs of life, Mason brought his hammer down hard on the back of the robot’s head. The Assaultron turned around and opened the aperture covering its head laser. As the wings fanned out, MacCready took the shot, the Assaultron’s head exploding in a shower of scrap metal.

Mason turned around and gave MacCready a thumbs up before picking up Picasso - his colorful sledge - and went after the Sentrybot that had just begun to turn his way. He gave a mad laugh as he dashed over the asphalt, bringing Picasso to strike the Sentrybot in the arm.

The robot caught the weapon and started to lift it, dragging Mason off his feet. MacCready climbed up to the top of the truck and clambered across a couple of other cars. He got a bead on the Sentry bot’s fusion cores and took aim.

“Mason! Drop it and run!” MacCready called, cocking his weapon.

Mason looked at MacCready and let go of his sledge. Dropping to his feet, he started to run, just as MacCready pulled the trigger.

The Sentry bot exploded in a hail of metal and smoke, leaving a sparking husk in the center of the road. MacCready fell from his perch and landed hard on his back, knocked off his feet by the shockwave. Dazed, MacCready grunted as he rolled over and began to stand. Other Minutemen took stock of their numbers, beginning to bandage wounds and regroup. Mason recovered Picasso from the wreckage and made his way over to MacCready.

“Good shot, Mac,” said Mason. He clapped an arm around MacCready’s shoulders.

“What?” MacCready rubbed at his ears.

Mason smirked and shook his head. Grabbing MacCready by his scarf, he pulled MacCready up on his toes and kissed him. After catching his balance, MacCready steadied himself with his hands on Mason’s chest.

Blushing, MacCready stepped back with a breathy “You’re welcome.”

Around the pair, Minutemen cleared their throats and turned away. Mason cackled and drew MacCready close, leading the group toward the Nahant Chapel. It was still mid-day, but the rampant bots had delayed their progress for the residents of Croup Manor, and there were injured to attend to.

“You know, Mac, we could head onto the wharf alone, let the wounded get some rest,” Mason suggested. “We really don’t need to shepherd the rest of the flock. They can radio for backup while we go take care of business.”

MacCready rubbed his ear again and frowned. “Did you just call me ‘Mac?’”

Mason grinned and leaned down. “Callin’ you ‘Rabbit’s’ just for our alone time.”

Pursing his lips into a tiny dot, MacCready fought another blush by pushing on Mason’s chest. “Who says I wanna be alone with you?”

“Look, we can either do this ourselves and leave the dead weight here, or we can camp out and head to the Libertalia in the morning, which ain’t ideal if we’re on the clock. I’d rather keep moving, let the sheep graze here while you and I go on ahead. We’re the only ones not badly hurt.”

Contemplating Mason’s proposal, MacCready rubbed his chin. “You really think we can take them on? I know Val’s done it, but that’s Val. She’s a little bit nuts.”

“Why do you think the boss and I get along so well? We’re like, long lost packmates or something.”  
“Someday, I will get you to stop making animal metaphors.”

“Not in the cards, Mac. Now, we gonna get moving, or are we gonna sit around on our asses?”

Sighing, MacCready looked to the other Minutemen there in the Chapel as they saw to their wounds. “Let’s get a move on. At the very least, we can do some recon and call for backup.”

“That’s the spirit.”

 

5.

 

The new Raiders who had taken up residence in the Libertalia had made the place a fortress. Even with the scope on his rifle, MacCready could barely get a bead on how many there were. Mason wanted to just charge the lot, but the risk was too high.

Instead, they found themselves hunkered down in the Nahant Sheriff’s Department, the closest place to rest between the Libertalia and the Chapel. MacCready sat at a desk, eating what rations he had left for the day. Mason paced just by the windows with his sledge, flexing his grip on Picasso.

“Little too much energy? Why don’t you sit down or something? You’re gonna attract attention,” MacCready said, licking his fingers.

“Was hoping for more of a fight than this. I’d rather be in there smashing faces than waiting around for the cavalry to roll in.”

MacCready sighed and took off his hat. “Well, in the meantime, I have something I wanna ask.”

“Shoot.”

“What are we doing?”

Mason paused and set the heavy end of Picasso on the floor. “You mean in general?”

“I mean…” MacCready gestured at the two of them. “Us. We keep… sort of kissing, but I’m beginning to think we’ve started some weird game of Chicken and neither of us is letting up on it.”

“Prefer to think of myself as cock of the walk, but-”

“Oh my god.” MacCready put his face in his hands. “Look, I know I’ve flirted with you, and you’ve flirted with me, but you started it by kissing me and-”

“Mac.”

“What?”

Mason leaned on the desk with both hands. “Shut the fuck up.”

Looking up at Mason, MacCready was tempted to kiss him again, just for the sake of making __him__  shut up, but it felt like only proving his own point. He leaned back in his chair, instead, putting distance between himself and Mason.

“Are we gonna talk about this tension or are we going to do something about it?” MacCready asked. He felt tired, not for sleep, but from all the running around his mind had been doing the last few weeks. Mason was difficult to pin down, and any time MacCready thought he could figure him out, the Alpha just surprised him again.

“Do we have to talk? Can’t we just fuck and get it over with?” Mason asked. He vaulted over the desk to sit on the side nearest MacCready; MacCready responded by pushing away in his chair.

“Is that all we want?”

Mason shrugged. “I’m down for a little roll in the hay. Might loosen you up a little.”

MacCready coughed and tugged his hat further over his eyes. “What if that’s not what I need?” he asked, speaking quiet enough that Mason had to lean in to hear him.

“You talking like, emotional support and shit?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Dunno why you’d want that from me. I’m a fucking mess.”

Looking up, MacCready chuckled. “Likewise.” After a moment of contemplation, MacCready followed up, asking “Why did you kiss me the first time?”

Mason looked away and shrugged again. “Dunno. Just my way of thanking you for not letting those assholes put bullets in me. You could’ve just let’em kill me.”

“You’ve probably done a lot of things you deserve to die for, but so have I. Letting you get shot because you had a bad day is kind of a dick move.”

Mason dropped his head down and started to laugh. MacCready rolled his chair closer, until he was between Mason’s knees. Mason’s laughter faded into a few warm chuckles as he noticed MacCready come up to him.

“Mm, what’s this now?” Mason cupped his hand under MacCready’s jaw and ran his thumb over MacCready’s bottom lip. “Thought you wanted me to chase you, little Rabbit.”

“Maybe I feel safe enough to come closer,” MacCready said, nipping Mason’s thumb. “Thought that’s why you’ve been a little softer to me.”

“There ain’t a soft spot on me, Rabbit.”

Between Mason’s legs, MacCready could see the proof of that in those stupid, fuzzy pants.

“Well, you’re a good dog, loyal, protective of what’s yours. Those are things I like. You’re also reckless, probably nuts, and really violent.”

Mason grinned. “Keep singing my praises, and I’m gonna have to turn you over this desk.”

“I think you need to relax. I’m not in the mood to be caught with my pants down in case those Raiders decide to pass by.” MacCready stood up and leaned into Mason’s space. Hands found Mason’s garish belt and began to loosen it up.

“But, I can help with your problem, if you can be a good boy.”

Mason licked his lips. “What’s ‘a good boy’ entail?”

“You just keep quiet, and keep your eyes on me.” MacCready kissed Mason’s lips lightly, teasing enough that Mason followed after him as MacCready dropped to his seat again.

Rolling the chair closer, MacCready swept his cap off his head and ducked down toward Mason’s waiting cock. Surrounded by the pink fur of his pants, MacCready licked his lips and tried to put the sight out of his mind and focus on getting Mason off.

“C’mon,” Mason snapped. He rested a hand on the back of MacCready’s head, not pushing, but present.

“I-hmm-sorry. It’s um. Impressive,” MacCready replied, biting his lower lip.

“You gonna do this or you just gonna tease me?” Mason asked, a sneer on his lips.

MacCready shook his head. “No, no, I just…” And his head dropped against Mason’s thigh as he started laughing.

“What the fuck?” Mason yanked MacCready up by the collar of his jacket, bringing him to his feet.

“I’m sorry! It’s just - I’ve never seen a dick surrounded by pink fluff before!” MacCready chortled, covering his mouth and failing. “I’m really sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Mason growled, letting MacCready go and pushing him away.

“Hey, whoa, wait a minute…” MacCready closed the space between them; Mason tucked himself away and turned so he sat sideways to MacCready.

“I’m really sorry, I mean it. I didn’t think you’d be sensitive about… that.”

“Sensitive’s got nothing to do with it. You’re just a fucking tease.”

MacCready sighed and tucked his arm under Mason’s, leaning into his side. He was surprised Mason let him back in so soon, but didn’t risk commenting on it.

“Wasn’t trying to tease you. I admit, I’m also kind of nervous. Been a while since I’ve even made out with someone, let alone tried anything sexual. I guess nerves got the better of me.” MacCready rested his head on Mason’s shoulder. Mason still hadn’t shrugged him off, so MacCready counted that as a win.

After a few beats of silence, Mason sighed and turned toward MacCready.

“Despite my better instincts, I’ll let this slide. But laugh at my dick again and I’ll fuckin’ break your neck.”

MacCready smiled and pulled Mason toward him for a kiss. “I believe you. Maybe I’ll be a little less nervous when I know we’re in a safer spot. I’d really hate to die while giving head.”

Mason snorted and gave MacCready a light shove. “I’d hate to see you die that way too. I’d be getting my dick blown off.”

MacCready doubled over laughing, and Mason held onto him until he quieted.

 

6.

 

Sanctuary really was home. Not just for MacCready, Duncan, or the other settlers, but even to Raiders, Ghouls - anyone who might come in peace. Val’s work had made it all come together, an inclusive place for people to find respite, a place to hang one’s hat or find work. A place that lived up to its name.

“Sanctuary Welcomes All” said the signs just off the bridge.

If anyone had asked him a year ago if MacCready thought he’d be making out with a Raider boss under the cover of trees right outside a settlement he called home, he probably would have shot them for being an idiot. And then he would have owed them an apology a year later.

MacCready laid back on the blanket Mason had spread out for the two of them. His shirt was open, and Mason’s heavy hand roamed over his torso freely. MacCready groaned and pulled Mason’s tank up, pressing both hands to the swell of muscle, feeling Mason’s heart pounding underneath.

Breaking a kiss to catch his breath, MacCready ran trembling fingers up and over Mason’s shoulders, cold fingertips pressing into warmer skin.

“You still nervous, little Rabbit?”

“Yeah, but I wanna do this.”

“Not gonna laugh this time?”

“You cleaned up for me. I know you’re serious.”

And indeed, Mason had. No trophy necklace, no fuzzy pants - though the jeans Mason wore made MacCready’s mouth water just to see him in them - and no war paint. He still had his Alpha shirt, but that had landed a couple feet away when MacCready nearly ripped it off him.

“Not every day someone gets me to take a bath. You consider yourself lucky?”

MacCready smiled. “Sure do.” Reaching up, MacCready ran his fingers over Mason’s neck and shoulders, down to his chest. “What about you?”

Mason smirked and leaned down, nuzzling his face into the nape of MacCready’s neck.

“I’m just glad you ain’t laughin’. I’d hate to break that pretty face of yours,” Mason said. He kissed the side of MacCready’s neck and sucked a bruise into his skin.

MacCready grunted and slapped Mason’s shoulder. “Hey, you said you’d ask-”

“Sorry.” Mason lapped at the warm bruise and dotted the area with kisses. “You smell good. Delicious little Rabbit…” He started to sink his weight down on top of MacCready, kissing and sucking the hickey again.

MacCready sighed and let him continue for a moment before getting his knee up under Mason’s stomach and throwing him over, rolling so MacCready was on top. Mason fell back with a grunt and a laugh.

“Takin’ advantage while I’m distracted? Slick.”

“Hey, you didn’t ask to leave a mark. Now you gotta be the bitch.”

Mason laughed again, sitting up with MacCready still straddling his legs.

“You’re gonna make me the bitch, huh?”

“I am.” MacCready smiled and cupped Mason’s jaw with both hands. “You’re gonna lay back and I’m gonna ride you until you beg me to stop.”

Mason’s smile spread slowly across his face. “Ooh, I like the sound of that. You snag the oil?”

“Yep. Cook didn’t even see me grab it.” MacCready leaned back in Mason’s lap to his discarded coat and pulled the stolen cooking oil from the inside pocket.

“Tsk, tsk, __stealing__ , little Rabbit? What will your friends think?”

“They’ll think you’re a bad influence.”

Mason chuckled and tugged on MacCready’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“I am a bad influence,” he said.

MacCready pushed Mason onto his back again. He pulled off his open shirt and sat back enough to get out of his jeans, tangling them in a pile with his boots. Mason followed suit, both of them clad only in moonlight.

Down river from Sanctuary proper, MacCready looked over his shoulder toward the glow of the settlement. No movement of guards looking for them; Duncan was spending the night in Val’s care. They had plenty of time.

Turning to look down at Mason, MacCready leaned down over him and gave him another deep kiss.

“You nervous, little Rabbit?”

“Me? Never.”

Rubbing down Mason’s cock with oil and bracing himself, MacCready started to sink down.

“Stop holding your breath,” Mason said, his voice too gentle for who it came from.

Gasping out, MacCready replied, “I’m not.”

“Not anymore.” Mason put his hands under MacCready’s thighs, holding him up. “I can feel you shaking. Relax. Much as I’m good at it, I’m not about to hurt you, li’l Rabbit.”

Nodding, MacCready rested his weight in Mason’s grip, allowing Mason to ease him downward. Breathing slowly, MacCready sat all the way down, and closed his eyes.

“You still good?” Mason asked.

The brush of knuckles over MacCready’s burning cheek made him look down to Mason, who waited patiently for MacCready to move. The concern in his eyes made MacCready’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ye-yeah,” MacCready whispered. “I’m great.”

Mason nodded and thumbed over MacCready’s lips again. “Good.” He pulled MacCready down to kiss him; the pull of his cock made MacCready moan instead, hands braced on Mason’s chest.

“You gonna make it?” Mason asked, a hint of amusement as he watched MacCready sit back up, squirming.

MacCready’s chest heaved, making the lean muscle stand out with every flex. He nodded, eyes squeeze shut again. After taking a few breaths, MacCready opened one eye slowly, then the other.

“I might be too shaky to do this myself,” MacCready admitted, his voice small and apologetic.

“I can take it from here,” Mason offered, sitting up once more. “Put your legs around my waist.” After a little wiggling and Mason getting to his knees, he held MacCready aloft in his arms.

“Christ, you’re strong.” MacCready curled his arms around Mason’s neck and leaned into him.

“You don’t get to be Alpha by being a pussy.” Mason ran one hand up MacCready’s back and settled it between his shoulders. “Ready? For real?”

MacCready nodded and hummed an affirmative in Mason’s ear. Taking that answer, Mason began to thrust up into MacCready, drawing out gasps and moans. He could feel MacCready pushing his erection against Mason’s abs; Mason responded by pulling him closer, giving MacCready more friction to rut against.

“Horny little bastard, ain’tcha?” Mason teased, though his own breathing had gotten heavier. “You like bein’ thrown around by bigger guys?”

“No,” MacCready grunted, sloppily kissing over Mason’s neck and shoulder. “Just you.”

Mason slowed for a moment, considering MacCready’s words before he dropped them both forward, pinning MacCready against the blanket.

“Hey, what-oh…hmmm…” MacCready’s almost-protest died on his lips as Mason kissed him hard. The change in angle let him pound into MacCready’s ass.

MacCready scraped Mason’s scalp with cold fingers, gripping hard enough to make Mason growl at him from above.

Hiking MacCready’s legs up higher, Mason braced himself with both hands on either side of MacCready’s head, just letting his hips drive his actions.

MacCready covered his mouth with one hand, Mason smacked it away and snarled into his ear.

“I wanna hear you howl for me.”

Biting his lip, MacCready shook his head. He raked his nails down Mason’s ribs and sides, holding back until he finally broke, whimpering and moaning a string of curse words, punctuated by Mason’s name as he climaxed.

Pulling out, Mason jerked his own cock over MacCready’s, spilling cum over his thighs, making a mess on MacCready’s dick. He sat back on his haunches and admired his handiwork: MacCready laid out under the cover of stars, pale skin silvery with sweat as he struggled to collect himself.

Running a hand over his face, MacCready gathered his wits. “God, you’re rough.”

Mason tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck with a loud pop.

“I knew you could handle it. You’re a tough little shit.” Sighing, Mason flopped down on the blanket, half draped over MacCready.

“Ew, and you’re all sweaty.”

Letting out a loud bark of a laugh, Mason rolled, gathering MacCready cradled in his arms so they switched positions. “So are you, love.”

MacCready froze. Mason swallowed hard, eyes widening as the realization struck him.

Breaking the silence, MacCready spoke first, his voice soft, almost frightened.

“What did you call me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Will there be a sequel? I don't know.


End file.
